


Eat me Out

by ThunderCant



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Eating out on a period, F/M, Femdom, Oral Sex, Period Sex, Periods, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 19:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderCant/pseuds/ThunderCant
Summary: Of all the times for Aunt Flo to pop by early, it’s when Claire’s in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. And because the world hates her, it decided to bring along every monsterfucking fantasy she’d had since high-school.





	Eat me Out

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on how I feel when I'm having a period. It's also based on the times when my vagina just kinda goes "!!!!" when it's absolutely inappropriate. Enjoy.

There were a lot of reasons for Claire Redfield to curse since she came into Raccoon City, population two-humans and a whole metric fuckload of zombies. For a start, there were…well, zombies. Everywhere. A whole horde of slavering abominations, ready to take a bite out of her ass, and often blocking the path between her and some ammo. Not to mention the notes scattered about that seemed to suggest it was an _intentional_ problem, the kind of problem that lead to evidence vanishing and people dying. The more dramatic part of Claire wanted to stroll into the nearest government office like some sort of horrific zombie Jesus, covered in bitemarks and trailed by her twelve undead apostles. Maybe that would get something done. Or at least give her some grim satisfaction watching them panic.

 _This place is getting to me,_ she thought, _innocent people getting caught up in this stuff is why you’re mad, remember?_

And sure, that was true, but there was a little jet of pleasure at the thought bubbling up inside her. But that might’ve been nature’s latest way of saying that it hated her, personally, and wanted her dead.

Because of all the months that her period could have showed up early, it was the one where she got stuck in a police station with a few hundred zombies and zero places to rub one out. Her guts switched between sharp, stabbing cramps (because she needed more pain in her life) and a hot, curling arousal that ploughed into her cunt. It was distracting, especially combined with the awful little voice reminding her that zombies could probably _smell_ the blood, the blood that was going to trickle down her leg and draw them closer like ravenous animals to a fallen deer. Maybe they’d want what they thought was easy access, and shove their tongues right up her-

She threw a brick wall in front of that train of thought and pressed on through the police station. If nothing else, the frustration from her arousal was great for stopping her bullets. There was something so much more satisfying about fisticuffs with the undead fuckers, slamming them into the ground and rendering them nothing more than moaning decorations. It was difficult, and it was risky, but it was effective.

And it stopped her from bringing the Tyrant down on her head.

Now he was more than just a problem. He was the proverbial cactus that would definitely get shoved up her ass if he caught her, big enough to shrug off her bullets and strong enough to tear through any barriers between them. The other zombies would lose interest if she ran fast enough, and she’d made a good enough dent just by grappling them, but Mr. X…

Mr. X would split her apart, in more ways than one-

“No!” She snapped at herself, “Now is not the time!”

Bad idea. The footsteps that had been thudding in the distance started getting louder, quickly. Claire slapped a hand over her mouth. Fucking horny brain, distracting her, leaving her vulnerable for-

No!

She rushed down the hallway, hyper-aware of the sharp _snap_ of a doorframe cracking underneath strong, meaty fingers, the heavy pounding steps, and how they were drawing ever closer. The police station was full of interconnecting rooms, she just had to find a path through one that would leave Mr. X in the dust.

No time to worry about the noise now. She shoved the nearest door open, darting through the mess of blood and rubble, ignoring how her ankles caught on the broken furniture. What was one more ache, after all? Outside of potential death trap.

Her cunt throbbed, helpfully.

Door after door whacked open, until she finally came to exactly what she didn’t want to see. There were zombies. Three zombies, large bastards with most of their jaw intact, that were staring at her like she was a succulent ice cream and they were beachgoers on a hot, sunny day.

Naturally, they flung themselves at her.

Claire threw the first one aside with its own momentum, only to be caught by the second and third cramping her at the side of the door. She snarled, rolling her shoulder to make one stumble. Claire smashed her fist into its head.

 _Fuck_ that hurt. The last zombie was already snapping at her neck, limited only by its blunt, human teeth.  She rammed her arm up, and the zombie let out a cry as its neck was jolted, sharply.

Claire darted to the other end of the room. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Mr. X was going to hear her if she used firearms. She wasn’t going to be able to take them on physically. And the only other way out led to zombie central, three floors down. And there was _still_ a horrible, traitorous part of her brain that was focusing on biting a whole other part of her.

She shot one of them before she even thought about it. The noise didn’t put a stop to her hot, pulsing cunt, demanding attention, it made it _worse._ Claire growled, putting another bullet through the beasts. Bang, bang, bang. They rolled back, bodies writhing as the bullets smacked through them.

They dropped.

One bullet left.

On cue, Mr. X loomed in the doorway.

She shot.

His hat jutted awkwardly on the side of his head, bullet lodged somewhere between his temple and his crown. It dropped with a soft thunk.

Mr. X blinked. Claire was trapped in a corner with nothing but three corpses and an empty gun between her and Mr. X.

Her brain supplied a few ways the scenario could go, all of them involving blood and only one of them involving her as a smashed up mess on the floor. All the others contained her pussy, Mr. X’s hands, and a fantastic time to be had by all.

Mr. X was coming closer. Claire frowned. He pulled his huge arm back, and the part of her brain that was powered entirely by arousal acted.

As Mr. X swung, she charged. He had to crouch lower to try and hit her, which meant Claire could hop up, wrap her thighs around his neck, and shove the gun against his temple.

Mr. X blinked again. She supposed she couldn’t really blame him. Having a tiny human suddenly try to strangle him via the medium of crotch must’ve been like having a hamster that suddenly pulled out a knife when you tried to pick it up. There was an awful stillness in the room as Claire kept her hold on the gun and waited. Mr. X didn’t seem to know what to do.

Eventually, he flicked his eyes upwards. He met Claire’s gaze, then back down to her crotch, then back up. And he chuckled. A deep, rumbling noise.

God if that didn’t go right to her idiot brain and brush out every single thought of ‘self-preservation’ and ‘not fucking a giant zombie’.

She smacked the side of his head with the gun. Obligingly, he dropped to the ground, knees crashing against the floor hard enough to make it groan.

She let her legs drop, coming face to face with the mountain of a man. His pants were tenting, leather painfully tight around the log that he called a penis. Well, assuming it was a penis. From what Claire had seen in the police station, it could’ve just been a tongue. Or a disembodied arm attached to his groin.

“You like it rough or something?” She whispered, dragging the gun down his face until it rested comfortably under his chin. A lot of stupid but hot ideas were rattling in her brain, demanding attention.

She pressed her heel into his crotch, drawing a sharp gasp from the monster. Heat spread through her body. She pressed down harder.

Mr. X shuddered, falling back so that his ass pressed on his calves, finally bringing him down to Claire’s level. God, he was massive. He was so big that the size of his head was nearly as wide as her whole torso, and watching it tip back, teeth starting to grit as Claire kept up the pressure on his dick.

His head lolled to the side once she took her foot off his cock, leaving his lips parted and drool starting to drip from his mouth. There was a thick tongue rubbing his lips and Claire couldn’t resist, leaning over him and swallowing them whole, sucking hard bruises into the cold, leathery flesh.

He gasped. His hands twitched at his sides, slowly coming up to rest on her ass while she bit into his lower-lip, hungry for _more_ of those soft, sweet noises. Mr. X was rubbing stuttering circles into her soft, yielding rear.

“That’s enough,” she said, pulling away and ignoring his whine. “Put that tongue to better use.”

Claire shucked off her pants, grimacing a little at the slippery feeling between her thighs. A sharp tang of blood coloured the air. Mr. X licked his lips.

She knocked his hat off, wrapped her hands around his head, and dragged him close. He was barely an inch from her pussy, breath rubbing on it, making her clit spring to life.

“Go on then,” she said, pulling him in, “eat me.”

The first contact was electric. Mr. X slowly nosing past her folds tentatively, lips easily parting from the slick arousal and blood. Mr. X’s chilly skin felt wonderful on her hot and heady cunt, nose barely rubbing her cunt. She tightened her grip as he let his tongue out, sneaking a gentle lick just behind her vagina, to the soft skin damp with blood. His tongue lathed along, slowly, carefully, as if he were trying to drink up every ounce of blood she had.

The tiny part of her brain that wasn’t high on hormones screamed at her about infections and the worst possible time for a kink to come to life. Claire ignored it in favour of digging her fingers into his skull when he slid his tongue all the way up her pussy, blood and sweat staining his face before he set his mouth over it and sucked. Claire hissed, leaving scratches in his head- the cool skin, warm tongue and her boiling cunt colliding together in a splendid mix of sensation.

He kept his attention focused on her hole. Maybe he really did want her blood. He seemed attached to it, tongue dancing up until it was pressing against her properly. And perhaps another time, Claire would’ve appreciated it.

As it was, she was horny, impatient, and had no interest in feeding a man-monster through her vagina. She clenched her thighs and moved, forcing Mr. X’s head further back until she was basically sitting on him. His eyes were at least a little wider than they had been, pupils blown out.

Her clit was rubbing on his tongue.

She ground her hips against his face, harsh enough to draw out a moan. Mr. X rumbled, and it was like having a vibrator gently buzzing against her pussy. The blood dyed his tongue red.

“That’s good,” she said when he gripped her tighter, giving her better balance, “good, now move that tongue.”

He took orders better than some of her exes, zombie or not. He kissed around her clit before closing his lips, sucking. Claire closed her eyes and smiled, rocking against him, keeping his head firmly in her grasp. The arousal still coursed through her, but now it had an outlet, and that outlet was doing his damnedest to eat her soul out through her pussy.

Blood and drool mingled with her fluids as she thrust harder against his face. The heat of her orgasm was drawing closer and closer, starting to tingle in her toes and power past all the cramps until it was pounding against her stomach, screaming to be let out.

With a final grunt and heavy roll, it was. She gasped, teeth gritted, almost biting her tongue as she rode the high for as long as she could, not caring for how slick or harsh she was being. It felt like a bomb had been let off inside her, finally reaching the end of its fuse.

But she was still in the RPD, sitting on top of a monster, that was licking its lips and eyeing her up. The orgasm had unwound her springs, at least a little, but the arousal was still there. Waiting.

She stepped off Mr. X, letting him breathe. His face was covered in red. Lips parted, breathing hard, hard-on still very much straining against his pants. It was something out of a bad porno.

God it was hot. Claire licked her lips, pushing her foot onto his cock again, savouring the gasps.

 _‘Goddamn horny brain,’_ she thought, dipping down to taste her blood on his lips.


End file.
